Dance Recital
by headofneuro17
Summary: "Excuse me Princess, am I or am I not french braiding your hair?" Hints of Dasey! Read and review please :)


**I'm considering adding another chapter to this that takes place after the dance recital, I've already written a bit of it. Review and let me know if I should. I'm kind of in love with this one (maybe two) shot!**

"Ugh!"

It was the morning of her dance recital and Casey was fighting a losing battle with her hair. She was supposed to wear her hair in a French braid to match her duet partner Lindsay, but try as she might, she could not manage to make it even halfway before getting frustrated and starting over. Quickly glancing at her watch, she realized she only had fifteen minutes until she had to leave the house. Panic began bubbling in her chest as she frantically ripped the braid apart once again. Why was this so difficult? She had seen her mother do it about a thousand times. She was so focused on taming her hair that she hadn't heard Derek leave his room and jumped as the bathroom door banged open.

" _What_ are you screeching about?" yawned Derek as he inspected his bedhead in the mirror. He was wearing flannel pajama pants with no shirt, his hair sticking up in random spots from sleeping on it all night.

"Like you actually care," spat Casey, glaring at him.

"You're quite correct, Spacey. I don't really care about your pre-dance freak out that happens _every_ time you have a recital. However, you're shrieking so loud the neighbors three miles away can probably hear you and I'd like to sleep away my Saturday in peace," smirked Derek.

"I am not freaking out!" shouted Casey, yanking strands of hair out as she undid the little progress she had made.

"Yeah, sure," said Derek, leaning up against the door. "So what are you _not_ freaking out about?"

Casey sighed impatiently before snapping "I have to french braid my hair because Lindsay insisted on us matching for this duet and mom was supposed to help me but Lizzie's carpool bailed at the last minute so she had to take her to karate and so now she won't be back in time and my hair is a disaster!"

"You know, for such an English nerd, that was quite the run-on sentence."

She wanted to smack the smirk off of Derek's infuriating face.

"Will you get out?" she shouted as she pulled a brush through her newly tangled hair.

"Oh for god's sake, hold still," said Derek as he rolled his eyes and snatched the brush out of her hand. Despite her protests, he ran the brush through her hair with a very un-Derek like tenderness.

"What are you doing?" she asked, both intrigued and annoyed.

"Getting you to quit screeching like a banshee."

Splitting a portion of her hair into three sections, he began braiding her hair with ease. Casey's jaw dropped as she watched him maneuver his fingers carefully through her hair.

" _You_ know how to french braid?"

"You don't?"

When she crossed her arms and didn't answer, he rolled his eyes again.

"My mom used to french braid Marti's hair everyday and when she and dad split up, she wasn't around to do it. Marti would beg dad to try but the poor guy was hopeless when it came to girl stuff, so I stepped up. I figured it couldn't be too hard and with Marti's nagging, I got plenty of practice."

"So you, Derek Venturi, took the time to learn how to french braid for your little sister?" asked Casey, a smirk beginning on her lips now.

"What can I say? I can't resist my Smarti."

"See, you can be a nice brother. Just not to me, I guess," said Casey, still smirking.

"Excuse me Princess, am I or am I not _french braiding your hair_?" asked Derek with a playful tug on the bottom of her now finished braid.

"It.. actually looks good," said Casey as she inspected her hair closely.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," said Derek, with voice coated with sarcasm. "Now will you get out of here? You're going to miss your recital and I can only imagine the meltdown that would come with that."

Walking out the door, he turned and said "if you tell anyone at school about this, I will not hesitate to put worms in your lunch again. And this time, they won't be the gummy kind."

"Trust me, I really don't need anyone knowing my brother did my hair," she retorted.

" _Step-_ brother," called Derek from down the hall.

She smiled to herself as she turned towards the mirror to admire his work. He really had done a good job. She heard a car horn from outside and knew it was her mom. Good timing too, really, considering she had been wrapped up in the thought of Derek's fingers tangled in her hair.


End file.
